


Catastrophic

by Youaremysunflower



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I think this classifies as hurt no comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mike and the others are only mentioned sorry :((, Mike wheeler / will byers isn't mentioned in this fic but they love each other, OR IS IT, One-Sided Will Byers/Mike Wheeler, Pain, Sad Will Byers, Underage Drinking, Will Byers Needs a Hug, mentions of self harm, they're just idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28100826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Youaremysunflower/pseuds/Youaremysunflower
Summary: Will Byers is tired. Exhausted to the bone. He's stuck at home and he's just trying to get some sleep. There's rum in the kitchen.
Relationships: Will Byers/Mike Wheeler
Comments: 9
Kudos: 23





	Catastrophic

**Author's Note:**

> No clue what's going on, this is not properly proofread, if u see any mistakes pls don't ne afraid to let me know, honestly this is not gonna be quality work, it's just me heavily projecting

  
Starting things, trying, is hard. Beginnings are supposedly the hardest, admitting that there's a problem is apparently the first step. But where do you go from there.

There's no instructions, no one way to deal with things that have happened. Nobody knowing exactly what to say.

Days. Turn into weeks. Will Byers in bed. Still. Running out of things to do, or well, has ran out of things to do, by the end of the first day. Boredom, or exhaustion. Neither favourable options.

It was nearing 2 am, the Byers household is quiet. Complete silence, excluding the heater that was on in his room.

Will climbs out of bed, careful to make as little noise as possible, and slowly opens his door, minding that it doesn't creak, he walks carefully along the hallway, looking out for creaking floorboards.

There's this one at the end of the hallway that he used to always forget about, too excited about not being caught that the excitement got to him a little too early, and he forgot that the floor creaking was even an option. He smiles, looking at the floor board in question, silently moving past it.

He makes his way to the kitchen, a clearly well loved place by Joyce. Though a bit messy, but who could blame them. The magnets on the fridge are neatly placed, most of them are ones that his friends got him, for example, you can always see Lucas's at the far left, in the shape of a seashell. Holding up a picture of them all, happy, Will smiling up at Jonathan. 

There's a picture that he drew a while ago there too, Will doesn't really like it that much but his mom seems to adore it, and she always smiles looking at it, so he lets her keep it up. 

He smiles at the fridge. Looking around the kitchen, there's a tea pot on the counter, Joyce always makes tea in case any of them wake up and need a cuppa. If nobody finishes it during the night, they end up drinking it in the morning anyways so, no harm done.

Finally, his eyes land on what he came here for. Bottle of rum. Situated neatly next to their cocoa, a roll of some paper and sugar, interestingly enough. He knows what he came here for.

The night's been long, Will's exhausted, everything is just, too much. Or too little. He just wants to sleep.

He can't exactly talk to anyone right now, even if his friends have offered. He doesn't want to overwhelm them. And he doesn't want to bother his brother or his mom, they've both been through so much already. He finds himself wishing they didn't have to deal with him at all.

Will just wants things to go back to normal. Back to Dustin, Lucas, Will and Mike playing DnD. Actually, He wouldn't mind if El and Max joined either. They're nice to be around and he's sure they'd make their games even more interesting.

But that's the thing, nobody's interested anymore, nobody cares, and he's tired of trying to make them care.

Mike. He really wants to hear his voice right now. Maybe even see him. But, he can't. Things are different now, it's just taking him longer to get to terms with that. 

He's been staring at the bottle of rum for awhile now, not sure what's so different this time. Wondering what it was that got him into a mood like this.

He moves to the cabinet, gets on his tippy toes and reaches behind a giant box of cereal. Taking out a smaller bottle of rum. There's a little of the rum left. There always is. Just enough to keep someone else from throwing it away.

He grabs the big bottle of rum and screwes the cap open, pouring some into the smaller bottle. He then puts the big bottle away, right where it was.

He gets himself a cup, and pours some of the drink in. Leaning against the counter.

It's funny because the rum kind of looks like the tea that his mom makes. Even though he knows it's incredibly unlikely for anyone to catch him, it's comforting.

Will's a lightweight, he pretends he's not, but he really is. But he doesn't mind right now. Getting tipsy or even drunk, depending on the mood, has never been easier, and it saves money. He doesn't waste as much. 

For a brief moment he thinks of his mom sitting him down. He assured her that he wasn't planning on going to any parties any time soon, but she was worried about him. She was worried about Will getting drunk and never making it home. She just wanted him to be safe. She warned him about how addicting it can be. He understood.

She reminded him not to drink when he was feeling down, not to try to fill some kind of void with it. He should've listened.

But the scars are too easily discoverable, and they take too long to heal, and there's only that much make up you can steal and only that many band aids going missing without your mother knowing.

This is better, nobody has to know. So he drinks his cuppa, puts it in the sink and puts everything back into place. He can still feel the hot lingering in his throat, it's comforting. Silently he walks towards his room. 

He forgets about the floorboard.

"shit" Will tries to quickly stumble his way back to his room, as quietly as he can manage. Right as he makes it under the covers he hears the squeel of a door opening, and the click of the lights in the hallway turning on.

He squeezez his eyes shut, with some unnecessary force, his face is turned towards the wall. Doing his best at trying to calm his breathing.

There's footsteps passing by his door. Jonathan.

He lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding. His head is throbbing, but not in a way that makes you want to drop dead, just like a reminder that it's there. A constant reminder.

His brother doesn't really check into his room to see if Will's sleeping as often as his mom. He relaxes a bit, he can feel the sleep tugging at him.

The footsteps again, they're more precise this time, more careful, his brain hasn't quite processed it yet, or why that might be.

The door to Will's room gently creaks open, a head that he assumes is Jonathan pokes through. He must be having a hard night too. Jonathan doesn't say anything. He closes the door behind him.

Will turns. That feeling in the back of his head is back, like he forgot something. But it's too late, sleep already has him in its grasp. He doses off.

**Author's Note:**

> I had to use the "he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding" line!! It's only my first actual attempt at a fanfic, it would be criminal of me not to use it. If anyone has any constructive criticism, please know that it's very welcome. If anyone actually read this, thank you, and also, I hope you're okay
> 
> Stay safe <3


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